


Ordinary Lives

by Rosie_Rues



Series: Wartorn [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-06-03
Updated: 2006-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/pseuds/Rosie_Rues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's got a letter...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was an ordinary enough morning when the letter came. Dad was stumbling around living room, trying to find his shoes. Harry’s little sister Alice was hogging the bathroom. Mum was burning the bacon, because she was trying to read the paper at the same time.

Harry, despairing of breakfast, went to open the kitchen window, glancing at the paper as he passed. The headline read _INFERNO! Knights of Walpurgis destroy another power station. Ministry of War baffled._

The fire alarm began to bleak, and Mum snatched the pan off the hob, and snapped, “Oh, be quiet!”

The fire alarm stopped and Harry asked, casually, “Is it a new bike?”

“What?” Mum said, fanning at the smoke distractedly. Her red hair was falling down around her face. Harry wondered, yet again, why she always wore that odd stick in her hair if it didn’t even keep it up.

Harry sighed, and gave up. He’d been trying to trick them into telling him what his birthday present was for weeks.

“Mum!” Alice shrieked from the hall. “Mum! The weirdest letter’s come, and it’s for Harry!”

Mum dropped the paper into the sink.

“Padfoot!” Alice shouted. “Give that back! It’s for Harry!”

A letter? For him? He didn’t know anyone who might send him a letter. He didn’t have grandparents, and his parents didn’t seem to have any friends. It was _possible_ that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon might have sent him a birthday card.

He doubted it.

Padfoot bounded into the kitchen, a thick envelope in his mouth, with Alice protesting behind him. The envelope seemed to be made of parchment.

“It’s for me,” Harry said, reaching out.

The dog dodged him, and headed towards Mum. Harry stared after him, surprised. He knew that other family’s dogs weren’t anywhere near as intelligent as the big, black dog who had lived with them all his life. He wasn’t used to Padfoot ignoring him.

The dog sat in front of Mum, and she took the envelope from him, turning it round to read the address. She shuddered quickly, and roared, “James!”

Dad appeared in the kitchen in seconds. His hair was on end, his tie was undone, and he only had one shoe on.

“What? I’m going to be late. And that git Padfoot has been hiding my shoes again.”

Padfoot gave him a tongue-lolling, doggy grin.

“Harry’s letter came,” Mum said, her voice small.

There was a moment of silence. Harry, staring at his father, for a moment thought he might be someone else, someone far less scatter-brained and easygoing.

Then he said, his voice sober, “We’ve been expecting it, Lily. If it was coming at all, it had to come now.”

“I know,” Mum said, twisting the envelope in her hands. “And I don’t want him to be a squib, really I don’t. It’s just-”

“Can I see my letter?” Harry broke in. He was used to these odd circular conversations, though they didn’t usually involve him.

Mum set her lips, but handed it over. Padfoot slipped across the kitchen, and put his head on Harry’s thigh, gazing up at him with pale eyes.

Harry patted him absently, glad of the familiar presence. Even if Mum and Dad were acting strangely, Padfoot was still Padfoot.

The letter was addressed to him in green ink. It was sealed with a large blob of purple wax, the crest smudged where Mum had been holding onto it. Harry thought letters like that only happened in books.

“I bet you’re in trouble,” Alice said, peering over his shoulder.

“Get lost,” Harry said, and broke the seal.

He had to read the letter twice. _Witchcraft and Wizardry?_ A boarding school? He was meant to be going to Greenway College next term, with everyone else in his year. He’d been on the open day and everything.

He looked up. Mum was pale, and Dad had his arm around her shoulder. They were both looking at him.

“But,” Harry said, bewildered, “there’s no such thing as magic.”

Padfoot made an amused, whuffing sound.

Mum reached over and closed the kitchen window. “Sit down, both of you. I’m afraid this is a very long story.”

Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that his life was about the change forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry overhears a conversation. Another dip into the AU in which Peter Pettigrew was brave.

Harry couldn’t sleep.

The day seemed to have gone on forever, and he knew he was tired, but he wasn’t sleepy. All he could do was stare at the ceiling, and try to make sense of everything that had changed in his world.

He was a wizard. So were his parents. There was a whole world of wizards out there.

Half of them wanted to kill him.

He couldn’t make sense of it. He thought he should be frightened, but he wasn’t. Things like this only happened in books.

He knew, in theory, that that wasn’t true. He saw the papers every day. He knew about the Knights of Walpurgis and what the papers called their campaign of terror. He’d read about the bombs and the biological warfare and the slaughter in the schools. He, like every child in Britain, knew what a green light in the sky meant.

But they weren’t just terrorists. They were wizards, using spells and potions, and they wanted to kill _him_.

He turned over, and his duvet tangled around his feet.

He wasn’t a hero. He didn’t even know any magic. What did they think he was going to _do_?

Kill Voldemort, according to his father.

“Harry?” Alice had said, shrill with disbelief. “What by the smell of his trainers or something?”

“Hey!” Harry had protested.

“Nobody knows,” Dad had said, smiling at her. Then he had explained about prophecies, and their desperate flight from the Wizarding world.

“The other option was to create a wizarding safehouse,” Mum had said, “but virtually all spells can be countered, and it would have been a death warrant for whoever kept our secret.”

Padfoot had whined at that.

“Here, we’re as safe as we can be,” Dad had said. “We never use magic. We have no contact with the wizarding world. No one knows where we are.”

“Is that why we moved house so much when we were little?” Harry had asked.

Mum had nodded.

He’d told them he wasn’t scared. Dad had roared with laughter, and ruffled his hair, saying, “Born Gryffindor, you.”

“Oh, honestly, James,” Mum had said. “We have more important things to worry about.”

“What’s Gryffindor?” Alice had demanded.

Now he wasn’t so sure of his courage. He got out of bed, and went to peep through the curtains. The sky was dark tonight, only clouds, and the orange reflections of the streetlights. Nothing green.

A girl in the year above had died last year. Her name had been Katie Evans, and she and her parents and her toddler brother had all been found in the morning, collapsed in the garden of their burning house as if they had merely fallen asleep mid-flight.

Mum had refused to let him go to the funeral, saying it was morbid.

Had that been the real reason? How many lies had they told him?

He was hungry. He hadn’t been able to finish his dinner, and he’d ended up giving most of his pudding to Padfoot. Mum had said, “You’ll get fat,” like she usually did, but it had been half-hearted.

Harry didn’t know why she made such a fuss. Padfoot usually ate the same as the rest of them, except when Aunt Petunia visited.

He slipped out of bed, and tiptoed down to the kitchen. The light was still on in the living room, and he could hear his parents’ voices through the door.

“It’s only his wand I’m worried about,” Mum said. “The rest we can probably put together ourselves or get through the school. But he has to have a good wand.”

“And even contacting the school is risky,” Dad said. “It’s a damn shame the Floo’s down. Any chance of that changing any time soon?”

“Unlikely,” a third voice said. “Remus seems to think everyone’s too afraid to risk it. Understandable, after what happened in Hogsmeade.”

Harry stopped dead. Who on earth? The voice was male, and terribly posh. He’d never heard it before in his life.

Was there another _wizard_ here? Had a visitor crept in while he and Alice were asleep?

“Have you heard from him recently?” Mum asked. “We could do with an up to date appraisal of the situation.”

“No,” the stranger said shortly. “And I don’t know when I will. We don’t have a schedule for letters. Too risky, even with Muggle post.”

There was a short silence, and then Dad said, with what sounded like false cheer, “We’ll have to get him to Ollivanders, then. It is still Ollivander, right?”

“The younger,” the stranger replied, with a snort. “Ollivander senior, ah, disappeared in eighty-six.”

“I wonder if I’d recognise anything if we went back,” Dad said.

“We may have to go back,” Mum said, sounding frightened.

“Almost certainly,” the stranger said, more cheerfully. “Once Harry’s in that world, you lose all the benefit of pretending to be Muggles. I’d keep your cover until the kid’s on the train, then clear out.”

“I don’t know,” Mum said. “I know you’ve always disagreed with me on this, but we’ve got Alice to think about as well. I wanted them to have a normal childhood.”

“Let’s not have this argument again,” Dad said firmly. “Harry’s wand. Do you think we could arrange for him to see Ollivander out of hours?”

“Nah,” the stranger said. “You might as well advertise. Young Harry’s a fairly ordinary looking kid. Stick some sunglasses on him, and send him on his own. No one will even notice him.”

“He’s only little!” Mum exclaimed.

Harry wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted by that, or worry about going off to buy a wand on his own. Did they mean a magic wand? Where on earth did you buy a magic wand?

The stranger chuckled. “You’ll send good old Padfoot with him, of course.”

“Good man,” Dad said. “We owe you so much.”

“Oh, it’s a dog’s life, this,” the stranger said over him. “Stuff it, Prongs.”

Curiosity overcame Harry. He had to know who was there. He hadn’t realised Mum and Dad knew _anyone_.

He knocked on the door.

“Who’s there?” Mum said sharply, and he could hear the thud of footsteps across the room.

“It’s me. Harry.”

There was a silence, and then Mum opened the door. The window was open, letting in a breeze that stirred the curtains. Padfoot was flopped in front of the fireplace, panting. Dad was stretched out on the sofa.

Mum had her old polished hairstick in her hand, gripping it so tightly Harry could see her knuckles press against her skin.

“Is that a wand?” Harry blurted out.

“Yes,” Mum said. “What’s wrong?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Harry said, looking around for the other man.

Mum wound her hair back up. “I’m not surprised. Do you want a glass of milk?”

“And I’m hungry.” He added casually, “I heard voices.”

“We had the radio on,” Dad said, tucking another piece of wood back up his sleeve. “You didn’t wake Alice up, did you?”

It had _not_ been the radio. Harry looked at the open window. Had the stranger climbed out?

“Sit down, Harry,” Mum said. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

Harry dropped down beside Padfoot, who seemed to be doing his best to melt into the rug.

“Poor old boy,” Harry said. “Miserable weather to be a dog.”

Padfoot sighed, and slumped further.

“Drama queen,” Dad muttered.

“Dad,” Harry said, looking more at the rug than anything else. “Do I have to be a wizard?”

Dad sighed. “Do you remember when Dudley tried to eat all of Alice’s birthday cake?”

“And his teeth got stuck in it, and he had to get it cut out by the dentist?” Harry said, grinning.

“And when you ended up on the school roof?”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Or the day we went to the zoo? Mrs Jackson’s green hair? The flying fish at Bournemouth?”

“They were just accidents,” Harry said indignantly. “Weren’t they?”

“No such luck, mate,” Dad said, and Padfoot smirked.

“But I didn’t do anything,” Harry protested. “At least, I don’t think I did.”

“And that’s why you need to go to school. You’ll like Hogwarts, I promise. Best days of my life. Remind me to tell you how to steal stuff from the kitchens.”

“ _James,_ ” Mum said warningly, coming back in. “You are not to set your son a bad example.”

“And Quidditch!” Dad said, running a hand through his hair. “Merlin, I wonder if the Cannons have won a match yet.”

“What’s Quidditch?” asked Harry, still dubious.

Mum rolled her eyes, and passed him a glass of milk and a sandwich. “Now you’ve done it.”


End file.
